Ahmed Nedim

Ahmed Nedim was born in Istanbul to an upper-class family. He received an excellent education, mastering Persian and Arabic, and held high-level positions at court. Although some historians, such as Ebu’z-ziya’ Tevfik, give his date of birth as 1681, leading literary historians are reluctant to accept the date with certainty due to the lack of reliable evidence. His father was a judge and his mother came from the famous Karaçelebizade family. According to the information given in one of his kasides, his ancestors had been in the service of the imperial state since the time of Fatih Sultan Mehemmed (1451-1471). He lived and produced his poems during the so-called Tulip Period (1718-1730), and died in the Patrona Halil uprising (1730). Nedim has often been called "the poet of the Tulip Period" by Turkish literary historians. This was one of the most colorful and interesting eras of the Ottoman Empire. Chronologically speaking, it corresponds to the second half of the reign of Sultan Ahmed III (1703-1730) and more precisely to the thirteen years of İbrahim Paşa’s viziership. It was characterized by a wish to realize "peace" after so many military conflicts and the visible drain they were making on the economy and overall energy of the empire. The rulers of the empire adopted a policy to avoid war at all cost, and the Ottomans began to look outside—more specifically to the West—for new "inspiration." The festive character of this era was reflected in many of Nedim's poems which commemorate the never-ending parties and ceremonies of the Ottoman elite. He was perhaps the first Ottoman poet who truly challenged the medieval conventions of divan şarkıs, for which he employed a rather plain Turkish with great mastery. His divan is his most important work. Four editions of this poetry collection are available, though a critical edition has yet to appear. It was first published in Cairo (undated), and another edition in 1874 came out in Istanbul. The best of the Arabic-script editions is Halil Nihad’s Nedim Divanı (1919). The last edition of this divan, in Roman characters, was prepared by Abdülbâkî Gölpınarlı (Nedim Divanı) and appeared in 1951. However, leading literary historians, such as Hasibe Mazıoğlu, believe that Halil Nihad’s edition is "more scholarly" and "correct." (See Hasibe Mazıoğlu, Nedim’in Divan Şiirine Getirdiği Yenilik. İş Bankası Kültür Cep Kitapları: 4 [Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basımevi, 1957], pp. 14-21.) Among the scholars who have published on Nedim are Hasibe Mazıoğlu, Tunca Kortantamer, Ahmet Ö. Evin, and Kemal Silay. poetry and he achieved his aim to rejuvenate the classical forms and themes in his vivid

NEDIM TO HIS HEART

When the morning wind blows, you are cast down, my heart,

Like a slave enmeshed in the beloved's tresses.

 

In the season of roses, it seems to me, my heart,

You too repent, as I, of forswearing wine.

 

Did I bid you drink no wine, love no beauty?

Then why do you shun me so, my heart?

 

You and my mind treat each other as strangers

As if you were a guest in my body, you, my heart.

 

Like a caravan lamp on the pilgrim's road

You are seen among the master craftsmen of love, my heart.           

 

Since you have offered Nedim the cup of love

Be kind, don't take it back, let him rejoice awhile.

 

Translated by Bernard Lewis 

WE UNDERSTAND THE PURPOSE OF THAT GLANCE

We understand the purpose of that glance,

We have some sense.

 

We may lack words but we are not unaware—                                                                                                

Surely we won't refuse the cup she offers, the coquette,

 

That was our pact with her, our agreement.

"I have a humble house near Besiktas,

 

Just right for you, my sweet.

Come, get the title deeds."

 

If any pious man has problems loving,

Let him ask me, for in that art

 

I have done much research, acquired much skill.

Every night, others clasp your waist, join heart to heart

 

Tyrant, be just, I too have a heart.

Don't fret, come to the feast.

 

There will be no strangers, and the only guests

I, Nedim, you slave, and you, my Sultan.                                                                  

 

Translated by Bernard Lewis

THE TIME FOR FESTIVITY HAS COME

Again the tulip came in flames to the gathering in the meadows

Good tidings to the rose garden, the time for festivity has come

The nightingale singing gazels came with delight to the gathering

Good tidings to the rose garden, the time for festivity has come

 

The greatest sultan of the world came with felicity to the rose garden

Making all the roses joyful and cheerful with his courtesy

The sultan of the age will come to the tulip garden, too

Good tidings to the rose garden, the time for festivity has come

 

The dances of the distinguished beloveds will be seen again

The moans of the musical instruments will mount to the sky again

The flames of the sounds will ignite the souls

Good tidings to the rose garden, the time for festivity has come 

The ney, santur, rebab, def, Tanbur, and çeng will be harmonious

With the melody of the nightingale and dove

All sorts of joy and happiness will fill the world

Good tidings to the rose garden, the time for festivity has come

 

The lovelock of the hyacinth, like the beloveds' forelocks, will revive souls

The cheeks of the roses, like the poetry of Nedim, will fill hearts with joy

Yesterday, I heard the nightingale in the rose garden saying

"Good tidings to the rose garden, the time for festivity has come!"

 

Translated by Kemal Silay

NOWHERE IN THIS CITY

Delicacy was drawn out like wire and became your graceful form

Wine was filtered from the bottle and became your crimson cheek

 

The rose’s scent was distilled and its thorn embroidered your shy attraction

The one became your perspiration, the other your handkerchief

 

Oh, reed-pen, your hollow is filled with magic and spells

The fallen magician-angel Harut’s black hair is become your inner fibers

 

All (dark) Christendom gathered and surrounded your face

Then gathered in the niche of your eyebrow and became your mole

 

That heathen idol asked, “Will you have some wine?”

God have mercy! What a hard question she put to you

 

What cup has made you drink, oh who has left you love-bewildered?

You have been deceived, my heart; what befell you, what’s amiss?

 

Your lips will be wounded by the teeth in the “s” of “kiss”

So let not your ruby lip be kissed

 

Nowhere in this city is the beloved you describe, Nedim

It was only an illusion, that appeared to you with a fairy-face

 

Translated by Kemal Silay

YOUR MERCILESS BLUE EYE

My beloved, since I cannot see your beauty

May your image never leave my maddened heart

I cannot rub my face in the dust of roads you walk

So let me get news of you from the East Wind

 

Your merciless blue eye gave a glance

And the sighs of your lovers rose to the sky

I asked your neck about your black lovelock

It said nothing of either white or black

 

My beloved, if ever I may serve you

I would be pleased to be a slave at your door

If only I could see in you a little bit of affection

This is all I’d wish of you, faithless one

 

Nedim is become lover of your beauty

A lover loyal to his oath

However unworthy of benevolence they may be                                                                          

My master, rulers are not shamed by beggars                                                                               

 

Translated by Kemal Silay 

MY BELOVED CYPRESS

Let us bestow joy upon this heart filled with woe

Let us go to Sa’dabad, my beloved cypress

Here is the six-oared boat awaiting us

Let us go to Sa’dabad, my beloved cypress

 

Let us laugh and play, let us enjoy the world

Let us drink nectar from the newly-made fountain

Let us watch the elixir pour from the dragon’s mouth

Let us go to Sa’dabad, my beloved cypress

 

Let us go, for a while, and wander around the pond

Let us later gaze upon the Heavenly Pavilion

Let us always sing songs and recite poems

Let us go to Sa’dabad, my beloved cypress

 

Ask your mother’s permission to go to Friday prayer  

Let us steal a day from reproachful destiny

Going through the secret roads towards the quay

Let us go to Sa’dabad, my beloved cypress

 

Just you and me and a nice, old musician and

If you permit, the mad poet Nedim

Let us, today, forget about the others

Let us go to Sa’dabad, my beloved cypress

 

Translated by Kemal Silay 

FROM THE "HAMMAMİYYE"

I woke up with the dawn

But soon came the throbbing of a hangover.

Setting out for the bathhouse,

My belt was already loose,

The corner of my turban fluttering.

Arriving at the bathhouse in that shape,

There I found a solitary spot.

Oh my God! What a beauty I saw!

A calamity for the soul approached me.

Gleams emanated from him as from the sun.

His hair was scattered like his lover’s sleep;

His look was distracted, like his lover Nedim’s heart.

He had a body whiter than pure silver, softer than a rose.

A fresh, young sapling was not as straight as his posture.

Was his body a moon-like dough or a sunny confection?

Was his stature a crystal bough or a precious pearl tree?

That stature, that cheek, that perfect proportion,

That double chin, those nipples,

That beauty and strength,

That coquetry, that graceful walk...

All colorful and precious,

They were truly flirtatious and alluring,

From head to toe beautiful like a resplendent face

 

Translated by Kemal Silay

 

(From An Anthology of Turkish literature, Edited by Kemal Silay)